Page 4 of Tough Justice

She checked her patient’s vitals one more time. “He’s doing well,” she said, hoping to reassure Agent Decker sufficiently to get him out of the ER. “We’ll know more when he wakes up.”

Beneath his crossed arms, the agent’s knuckles whitened.

Okay, so he wasn’t going to take her hint to leave.

She had to crane her neck to look up at him. A pair of intense, dark brown eyes that held zero warmth stared down at her. If he thought for one second that his glowering cop-look would intimidate her, he was about to be sadly mistaken.

Controlling everything that happened in the ER was paramount. Lives depended on everyone doing things by the book and according to protocol. Having a cop the size of a linebacker taking up critical space in the room was unacceptable. “I gave you my word. I’ll watch over him personally, but I want something from you in return.”

“What?” he growled.

“I want you out of here. Now.”

Agent Decker took another deep breath, and for a moment she didn’t think he would obey. Finally, he surprised her by executing a military-precision about-face and heading for the door.

“Wait.” A last-minute spurt of compassion took root, along with a sprinkling of guilt over her unprofessional bitchiness toward the man. DEA or not, he obviously cared for his friend, and she respected that. She deposited her gloves and mask in the biohazard bin then escorted him to the waiting room doors. “I can’t make any guarantees, but your friend really is responding well to the naloxone.”

When he turned and locked gazes with her, her mouth went just a teensy, weensy bit dry.

In the examining room, she’d been concentrating on her patient, then she’d been so annoyed with Agent Decker that she hadn’t really seen him. There was no denying he brought out the fifty shades of animosity, but one thing was for certain: with his chiseled jawline, slightly cleft chin, and sexy as all-get-out five o’clock shadow, the man was about as handsome as it got. Hard not to admire his muscular physique, either. He must spend all his free time in a gym, lifting barbells and dumbbells and whatever other bells made a man’s body that way.

He closed his eyes, as if reciting a mental prayer. “Thanks, Doc.”

The last thing she wanted was gratitude from the DEA. The short-lived attempt to rein in her internal bitch flew out the window as the past came roaring back in a rush of emotion. Especially the distraught look on her dad’s face that fateful day.

“Don’t thank me,” she bit out. “I’m just doing my job. Maybe if the great and powerful DEA did its job, drugs wouldn’t be sold on every street corner in Denver, and Colorado’s opioid crisis wouldn’t be spiraling out of control. Your friend is the third opioid overdose I’ve treated today, and the tenth this week. Three of those patients died. And that’s just on my shifts. I can’t speak to what happens when I’m not here or how many are dying before they even get to the hospital.” She blew out a breath and grappled for a calm she didn’t feel. “Whatever just hit the streets could be the beginning of something really scary, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. But you can.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. “And another thing.” She jabbed a finger at him. “This is my castle, not the DEA’s. If you ever come into my ER again, I’ll have you thrown out on your muscled ass.”

Chapter Two

Deck and Thor strode through the hospital’s main entrance door, grateful for the air conditioning. Being situated on an upland desert, the Denver climate was dry, but it didn’t matter. Even in September, if you were out in the sun, it was damn hot.

All heads in the lobby turned to stare, some backing away. Deck was used to it. At nearly eighty pounds, his Belgian Malinois K-9, Thor, was big, even for a male, and commanded attention everywhere they went. Not even the DEA K-9 vest designed specifically for public events put people at ease. On both sides of the vest were emblazoned: DEA K-9. Next to that was an embroidered badge, identical to the one on Deck’s polo shirt.

“Let’s go, boy.” He headed for the elevator bank, ignoring the skeptical looks from some of the hospital personnel. Thor was not only a federal agent but a trained therapy dog. After everything his friend had gone through yesterday, he figured Dan could use a little canine therapy.

Most overdose victims could leave the hospital within an hour after recovery. Due to the severity of Dan’s OD and the looming possibility of hypoxic brain injury, he’d been kept overnight. This morning, they’d gotten word he’d be released soon. Guess that doctor had kept her word, after all, although for a moment there, he wasn’t sure. The second she’d dumped him in the waiting room, he’d done a little checking on her.

Victoria Sampson had been at North Metro for four years. Her friends called her Tori. In other words, he’d never be calling her Tori.

Deck had done his best to keep his shit together, then his uber-mistrust of all things medical had reared its ugly head like a three-headed dragon, and he’d let Dr. Sampson have it with both barrels. He didn’t trust doctors, and it couldn’t have hurt to let her know it. It was his subtle-as-a-Sherman tank way of letting her know he’d be keeping an eye on his friend and what she prescribed for him. Deep down, he knew not all doctors were bad, just some. The problem was those that were bad could leave a trail of bodies in their wake. Like his sister.

The elevator door opened, although the couple inside hesitated. Courteously, he held Thor back so the couple could get out. Inside the elevator, he pushed the button for the third floor. Seconds later, he and Thor stood outside Dan’s room. A child’s high-pitched giggle came to his ears, and he hesitated before going in.

Dan had been seconds from dying, and his little boy had nearly lost his father. It never should’ve happened, but it had. Deck was ready to do whatever it took to make sure there were no repeats of last night.

“Deck, are you gonna stand out there all day, or get your ass in here and kiss my ugly mug?” Dan motioned him inside.

Lisa, Dan’s wife, smacked her husband affectionately on the shoulder. “Dan, what did I say to you about cursing in front of Tommy?”

“Sorry, sweetie.” Dan gave his wife’s hand a squeeze, looking appropriately chastised. “Won’t happen again. At least, not today.”

Lisa shook her head, laughing.

“Thor!” Five-year-old Tommy Prince slid from the chair beside his father’s bed, rushing over and wrapping his little arms around the dog’s neck. Thor’s tail whipped back and forth as he licked Tommy’s ear. “Hi, Deck.” Tommy giggled as Thor licked the boy’s face.

“Hi, Tommy.” Dan’s little boy could always make Deck smile. The kid was a mini version of his father but with his mother’s blond hair.